


in your knee socks

by Bondmaiden



Series: Panties x Kuroko [2]
Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Crack, Lingerie, M/M, Panties, Post Winter Cup
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-14
Updated: 2014-10-14
Packaged: 2018-02-21 04:20:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2454509
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bondmaiden/pseuds/Bondmaiden
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Everything is supposed to be all right after Winter Cup with Seirin's victory—and Akashi's fine with that. Only, he discovers that it's not fine when Kuroko's in the showers.</p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <br/>
    <i> “Please keep your erections to yourselves, everyone.” Kuroko’s voice almost cracks when he says so, and his fist keeps a tight grip on his towel lest it falls. “Kise-kun, especially you.”</i>
    <br/>
  </p>
</blockquote>
            </blockquote>





	in your knee socks

**Author's Note:**

> _please don’t take this seriously. it’s panties x kuroko for a reason. i need more kuroko in panties pls /crawls_  
>  also this is thanks to [marzia](www.makingtheuniverse.tumblr.com) because we talked about this previously (eeEeEeEeEEEY), and this is also for [rin](www.manaorin.tumblr.com) bc she's going through hell at the moment.  
> bless everyone who reads panties x kuroko and enjoys it. /smooches

“Tetsu wears panties?”

Kise, strangely, doesn’t look surprised. He acknowledges Aomine’s crowing with a nod—well, an almost too smug nod like he’s known it all along. “The white ones look really good on him, don’t you know?”

“How the fuck was I supposed to know Tetsu wore panties?” the Touou ace shoots back, offended. He has his back to the lockers and makes a sweeping gesture at Kuroko’s partially unzipped gym bag lying innocently on the wooden bench, almost in hysterics at the sight of a frilly white thing spilling out halfway across the dark canvas. The sheer material doesn’t belong in there, unless Kuroko mistakenly took his mother’s underwear—or, God forbid, his grandmother’s underwear. But the saggy hag couldn’t possibly fit everything in those thin straps anyway. Narrowing his eyes, Aomine scowls. “How did you know anyway, Kise?”

“Wh _aaaaaaa_ t?” Now it’s Kise’s turn to look offended like he’s been charged of a sexual offence against Kuroko—not that it isn’t a possible future, from all his constant mooning of the former Teiko shadow. “How did you think Kurokocchi found all these cute panties? It’s thanks to me, duh.”

Aomine, who’s taken the initiative to approach Kuroko’s bag, squats near the bag and comes to a near eye-level with the offending object. He squints. _Hard._ “Well—fuck you for giving him a goddamn thong!”

“Don’t call it a thong, Aominecchi! It’s a G-string—nothing’s wrong with it!”

“It itches when it’s between your butt, you idiot!”

“Not if it’s the correct size!”

Honestly, the only idiots Akashi sees in this room are both Kise and Aomine, but he figures that the obvious shouldn’t be stated. Clapping his hands, he tries to draw the attention of the rest of the occupants in the room, mainly the shell-shocked Midorima (who froze when he came across the panties), and Murasakibara (who isn’t even fazed and resumes eating his snacks). 

“That’s enough bickering, you two. It’s Kuroko’s decision to wear—“ Akashi pauses, mouth half-open with the word ‘G-string’ hanging from his tongue, before aptly deciding on a proper substitute instead of that _lewd_ term, “—panties, if he wishes to.”

“But don’t you think the real question here is if Kurochin’s panties are edible?” Murasakibara pipes up. A handful of salted chips in hand, he munches through them in three bites and licks a strip up his palm to clean up. “I mean, it kinda defeats the purpose to wear panties if it’s not edible, right? What do you think they taste like?”

Kise’s the first one to croon at the suggestion. “Hopefully like Kurokocchi’s butt after he wears them.”

Aomine’s only response is to wrinkle his nose and absently waving off a disturbing thought in his head. “My captain gave me a box of ‘em for my gag birthday gift this year and they taste like chewy slippers. Gross.”

“Eeeh? Then why do they put the flavours on the boxes if they’re not gonna taste good?” Murasakibara presses on, crestfallen. “You mean they’re not going to taste like grapes? Or cola?”

Akashi doesn’t even want to know why Murasakibara’s disappointed in the first place, but the moment Aomine opened his mouth, he knows it’s not going to stop. 

Seirin’s team had already left their locker room earlier when Akashi exited Rakuzan’s after the match, and they’ve kindly pointed out that Kuroko’s still in the shower so they went ahead to wait at the entrance (without rubbing their victory in his face, of course). The redhead had no intention of bringing up the obvious provocation Kuroko threw back on the court, nor does he want to comment anything about the blue ribbon peeking from Kuroko’s ass; he just wanted to talk to Kuroko after being separated for far too long, and he wanted to do so as _privately_ as possible.

—not without this entourage of rainbow crowding Seirin’s locker room long before he made his arrival. Talk about great timing.

Somewhat disgruntled that everyone’s beaten him to the punch, Akashi clears his throat. “Everyone—“

“—please leave, or pass me my bag if you want to be useful,” another voice interrupts, deadpan. 

That got everyone’s attention. 

All heads cracked to the bathroom’s direction in unison. 

Kuroko stands by the doorway, a pathetic excuse of a tiny bath towel wrapped around his hips to spare everyone the sight of his nudity, face blank. Wet from head to toe, his damp hair’s plastered to his lightly flushed cheeks, and Akashi watches in muted trance as the sweet pink washes all the way down to his neck, spreading over his chest. Droplets of liquid drip from his hair to his shoulders, trailing down the flat plane of his chest, over the rosy peaked nub of his nipples, following the well-defined contours of his abs, going further south, and further, and further, and _further_ —

“Please keep your erections to yourselves, everyone.” Kuroko’s voice almost cracks when he says so, and his fist keeps a tight grip on his towel lest it falls. “Kise-kun, especially you.”

Akashi’s eyes immediately shot over to the blond’s crotch at the accusation. 

Kise unashamedly exhibits a boner stained red by the sudden nosebleed attacking him, Kuroko’s warning already going over his head. Stone-petrified Midorima fidgets briefly and shifts his palms to cover his tragic display of arousal, averting his eyes, looking at _anywhere_ but Kuroko. Aomine doesn’t even try to hide—he stands and proudly shows off his tented jeans, only pointedly staring at Kuroko’s towel in an effort to imagine what’s hiding underneath it. Murasakibara’s no better; he’s already salivating like a starved beast with the most impressively proportionate dick hanging between his legs. 

(In retrospect, Akashi’s rather glad he’s had his unfortunate erection before any of them and took care of it in the shower before coming here, so he’s good for now. Though, this direct display assaults his imagination more than it should have.)

Kuroko, still standing, still dripping wet, still wearing only a towel, musters a low sigh that apparently shot straight to Kise’s legs, making him quiver and groan. “Everyone is hopeless.” Turning to Akashi, he gestures to his bag politely, tipping his head. “Please help me get my underwear, Akashi-kun. I need to dress before the team leaves me behind again.”

The redhead inhales softly. Steady, _steady_ , normal voice, no breathy noises whatsoever. “Of course, Kuroko.” He doesn’t need to ruin the trust between them just because of this incident. “Stay there.”

He gets his mental faculties in gear again, tries to remember what walking feels like when his blood circulation’s almost cut off at his legs in favour of heading to the heat pooling in his groin. One fluid step at a time, Akashi approaches the bag, unzips it enough to make some space, touches the lacy feel of the panties with his fingertips—“Sniff it, Akachin,” Murasakibara urges— _No, you’re not going to sniff it_ or so Akashi tells himself, grabs it tight, and one step, two steps, three steps to the right to Kuroko, outstretching his hand. "Here, you best hurry up, Kuroko.”

Only, Kuroko doesn’t take it. He eyes Akashi levelly, judging. Silent. 

The panties in Akashi’s palm feels like it weighs a ton now, crumpled innocence of satin ribbons and lace hems and stretchy elastics. His face doesn’t betray anything suspicious unlike Kise’s profusely bleeding nose, not even close to Aomine’s stalkerific leering, nothing like Midorima’s wide-eyed arousal glued on his face, definitely not Murasakibara’s constant salivating and thirsting gulps. What is it?

“Thank you, Akashi-kun, for being considerate.”

He says it so softly, fondly, Akashi might have not heard it at all if Kuroko hadn’t reached out, gingerly brushing his moist fingertips over Akashi’s palm, hooking a finger into the material to lift the thong. He doesn’t break the eye contact again—it’s another challenge issued right in his face, daring Akashi to take any action against him, and he knows he can’t because they’re just right _there_ watching every move, ready to jump either to tear him away or to start an orgy in the locker room. 

Like the shadow he is, Kuroko turns around on his heels, reopening the doorway to the bathroom. Exposing the pale nape stretching ever so lightly with his movements, minute jerks when he pauses to flick a damp lock behind his ear, so soft, so wet, Akashi thinks he’d like to run his tongue over the dips between Kuroko’s fingers to dry him up. The thong hooked on a single digit twirls around as Kuroko reaches back without looking to close the door, but he’s smiling like he’s the cat who licked the cream off the saucer, victorious. 

With a click, the door closes. Just like that, Kuroko’s gone. 

That _tease._

Exhaling in short breaths, Akashi rests his forehead against the plastic panelling separating them, the hormonal basketball teens, and the little devil on the other side. He doesn’t turn around. 

Not when he’s the last one sporting a boner in the group. Again.

**Author's Note:**

>  **BONUS:**  
>  “Let me get this straight: It’s not gay if we’re masturbating in a group right now when we’re thinking about the same guy,” Aomine justifies. “Fuck it, man, I can’t go out like this! Satsuki’s gonna chop my dick off if she knows I got a boner from her Tetsu!”
> 
> “You think that’s bad, Aominecchi!?” Kise wails, hiding his face in his hands. “I’ve got blood over my pants—I look like the guy who’s on period!”
> 
> Midorima, fortunately, has nothing witty to offer. Only Murasakibara looks over to check on Akashi and frowns when the redhead doesn’t move from the spot.
> 
> “Akachin,” he says, “I’m pretty sure the Emperor Eye doesn’t work for X-ray vision.”


End file.
